The Man I Love
by Esmerald tears
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Hermione and Harry want to spend it together. I'm not good at summaries. Pure fluff. One shot. R&R!


The Man I Love

A/N: Hello! I'm finally back in the fanfiction world... And happy to be! I missed writing about Harry and Hermione (I've recently published my first fic about another pairing), so... Let's get straight to the point. Post Voldemort. Pure fluff. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Alas, no. Not even the song. In fact, that was what inspired me to write this. So... nope.

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Snow fell thickly outside, some of it gathering at the window sill. The town outside was relatively silent, especially at this time of night. Twenty four year old Hermione Granger went out of the kitchen and gazed at the table critically; checking if everything was in order. She wanted this to be perfect. The chimney crackled away in the living room, next to the Christmas tree. Lighting up the candles with a flick of her wand, Hermione proudly smiled, admiring her work.

Yes, today was Christmas Eve and she wanted this dinner to be just heavenly for her husband. He was coming late, for he had to work in the Aurors office, but had promised to be there not later than eleven. Hermione looked at her watch and squeaked; quickly taking off the apron she was wearing and going over to the kitchen, when she threw it on the kitchen counter.

As she made her way to their bedroom Hermione stole a glance at the clock Molly had gotten them for their wedding and gasped; Harry's needle was now pointing to "Travelling". She clapped excitedly and ran to the bedroom, hoping that he would like what she had prepared for him.

Harry Potter shivered in the porch of his house and longingly looked at the soft light coming from the living room windows. The Ministry of Magic had nearly been empty that day, but that didn't stop them from making Harry do nearly thirty reports plus some other three Ron had neglected. Wankers. He wanted nothing more than to be at home with his wife, enjoying Christmas with her and her alone. He put the key in the lock and tapped the doorknob softly. "_Alohomora_," he softly said, turning the key, and the door opened. Hermione's idea, of course.

As he entered the house and shook his head to get the snow off his head, a wave of heat washed over him. He smiled widely at the smell that reached his nostrils: Hermione had made dinner. She had never been much of a cook, but with the help of Molly she had improved a lot. "I'm home!" He exclaimed, and chuckled at how had that sounded. He felt so domestic. He walked towards the dining room and his smile turned into a grin when he saw the table.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione suddenly greeted, appearing at the doorframe of the kitchen. Harry grinned until it hurt as she went over and kissed him; Harry put his arms around her and returned the kiss with equal passion. Hermione broke the embrace and smiled at him, biting her lower lip.

"Good evening, love," Harry finally replied.

"I made dinner," Hermione said. "I made spaghetti... I hope that you like them," she added with some alarm. Harry kissed her nose and went to sit down at the table.

"You bet. Want me to help with something?" He asked, starting to stand up. Hermione smiled widely and pushed him down, shaking her head.

"I'll be right back," she announced. Harry gazed at her go greedily; his stomach grumbling. She was back soon enough, carrying a bowl full of spaghetti that frankly looked delicious. Before sitting down, she went over to the stereo and pushed play. A soft, inviting music invaded the room as Hermione sat at his right. As she served the food Harry leaned over and went for the bottle of wine, opening it up. He poured the red liquid on the crystal glasses and, smiling at an expecting Hermione, began to eat.

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Hermione beamed at Harry, who was currently devouring his third pumpkin pie slice, and sighed contentedly. She loved this man so much that it was above her to imagine what would she be without him. Hermione loved him not because he was the Boy Who Lived, nor the Chosen One, nor the man that had defeated Voldemort. To her, he was just... Harry. The Harry that made her laugh, that understood her and didn't look down on her because she was a bookworm. Waking up every day knowing that he loved her the same way she loved him made her life whole.

Harry gazed at her and swallowed before cutting a piece of the pie and lifting his fork. "Want some?" He offered. Hermione grinned and opened her mouth, letting him feed her. Sometimes she felt she had to empty her heart to make room for that feeling, which was so much bigger than her. "What's up?" Harry's voice broke her reverie; she blinked a couple of times and gazed at him.

"Nothing... Just thinking," she replied. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"About what?" He wanted to know. Hermione ran her hands through his unruly hair and smiled.

"You," she simply replied. Harry smiled back but didn't say anything; taking in the way she looked. Illuminated by the fire, her hair looked bright and her eyes almost transparent; he could see himself reflected in them. She was his angel. They stared at each other for a few moments, momentarily lost in one another. As a new song started playing, Harry stood up and held out his hand.

"Dance with me?" He asked. Hermione looked mildly surprised as she took it and Harry led her to the spot in front of the fire. He put one hand on her waist as the other held Hermione's hand, entwining his fingers with hers. Hermione locked her arms around his neck and rested her head against his warm shoulder; closing her eyes as they started moving to the slow rhythm of the song. The only light came from the fire and the bulbs adorning the tree, creating a nice atmosphere.

"How is this song called?" Harry wanted to know, talking in a whisper. Hermione didn't open her eyes.

"The man I love," she whispered back, squeezing his hand. Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head, falling silent again. Hermione knew that time hadn't stopped only because the lyrics that came from the stereo kept changing...

"Are you happy, Hermione?" Harry questioned, again breaking the silence. Hermione stared at him and smiled. Was she happy? She would have to make up new words to describe how elated she felt everyday, when he was with her.

"'Happy' is an insulting understatement," she replied. "What about you?" Harry caressed her cheek and also smiled, boring his eyes into hers.

"More that you will ever know," he whispered before sealing her mouth with hers with a loving kiss that made Hermione's insides turn to jelly. When their lungs started to demand oxygen, Hermione broke the kiss and again leaned on his shoulder.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Harry," she said softly. Harry's grip tightened around her body.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Hermione," he retorted. Hermione loved the sound of his name when he said it. They proceeded to dance for a little bit more, because for them the world had momentarily stopped turning, as the snow continued to gather on the window sill.

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A/N: Ah! I loved writing this story... I hope that you like it, too! The song that I used is sung by Diana Shuur, by the way. The first time I heard it I _knew_ I had to write a story for it. You know what to do now... Review!


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